


My Lady, My Angel, My Love

by 1unknowntheatrekid



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Morally Grey Lady Dimitrescu, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, because wtf not, love solves everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1unknowntheatrekid/pseuds/1unknowntheatrekid
Summary: In the Bible, they say God will provide, but the longer I stay here, the more I doubt that. This castle is a prison, a never-ending nightmare, a gate to the deepest pits of hell. On the outside, the decrepit, rotting ruins of the castle scream go away, while the insides, with their refinement, unnatural beauty, and goading wealth seem to attest to the fact you will never leave. The women which I serve, Lady Dimitrescu’s children, with their beguiling looks and pretenses of civility and politeness, are pure and utter evil.Then there is the giantess. Lady Dimitrescu herself is an enigma, she possesses kindness (our conversations attest to that), yet she is cruel. She is caring (her protectiveness of what she labelled my innocence have proven it repeatedly), yet despises all save for her daughters and me.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here goes whatever the hell this is. Functioning off of minimum knowledge of Resident Evil lore, but I had to write because 1) why the fuck not, and 2) I am in love with/lusting over the tall vampire lady (who isn't if we are being brutally honest). So enjoy, and I hope this isn't total shit.

In the Bible, they say God will provide, but the longer I stay here, the more I doubt that. This castle is a prison, a never-ending nightmare, a gate to the deepest pits of hell. On the outside, the decrepit, rotting ruins of the castle scream go away, while the insides, with their refinement, unnatural beauty, and goading wealth seem to attest to the fact you will never leave. The women which I serve, Lady Dimitrescu’s children, with their beguiling looks and pretenses of civility and politeness, are pure and utter evil.

Then there is the giantess. Lady Dimitrescu herself is an enigma, she possesses kindness (our conversations attest to that), yet she is cruel. She is caring (her protectiveness of what she labelled my innocence have proven it repeatedly), yet despises all save for her daughters and me.

Most days I don’t know if I want to live or die with the sheer overload and desperate longing to escape I experience every day. A miasma of foulness and decay seem to emanate from almost everything and everyone, but somehow, the place feel vaguely like home.

Home. The one thing that I never really had. For me, home was with my preacher father across from a church. Home was relentless studying of Scripture, never-ending discipline, and constant disappointmen to my father. Home, I wish I could find one, but I never will as a prisoner in this hell. Such were my thoughts as I tried to find sleep after another day of servitude and contradictions.

By now, I have gotten used to the eerie sounds within this castle and have accepted that I will never, nor do I want to, find out what they are. Lady Dimitrescu has assured me they are nothing, but I know better. Finally, the temporary oblivion of sleep washed over me, silencing my inner monologue of thought.

_I was sitting outside during one of the few sunny days. It was my monthly day off, and I was reading the only book available to me, the Bible. By now I had read it countless times, and I found solace in the book of Job. The trials he endured connected with me, and maybe I was experiencing my own trials._

_“Edward.” A sweet, voice calls from behind me, almost pleading._

_“My lady.” I respond, emotionless, numb, still looking at the verse before me._

_“I require your assistance, would you please follow me.”_

_“Yes, my lady.”_

_Lady Dimitrescu ducks back below the door frame to the left of the bench I was currently on. All I see is a portion of her white gown flow into the door, transparent and ornately decorated. I obey._

_I see her strolling up the main flight of stairs towards the East corridor._

_I pick up my pace._

_She goes to her room, the golden engrave door just ajar, her head now peaking from it. A single hand beckons me to enter before disappearing inside._

_Once again, I obey._

_Within the room, carvings in the reminiscent of the Rococo style of art dance across the walls, darkened by the drawn drapes. Lady Dimitrescu is nowhere to be seen._

_A single hand of alabaster white gently finds its way onto my shoulder, slowly tracing up my shoulders before settling on my neck. Another hand snakes around my waist and beneath my butler’s uniform, connecting with my skin, sending shocks all over my body. I feel her face lower to my ear as she whispers in a sultry, longing voice._

_“You are mine.”_

_Her lips mold around my ear lobe, gently tugging at it._

_She trails down to my neck, forcing me to close my eyes in pleasure._

_She abruptly stops at my pulse point, almost savoring its feeling against her lips._

_When I open my eyes and look at her, red drips down her neck, slowly staining the white dress that clings sinfully to her breasts._

_She smiles hungrily, revealing two sharp fangs slightly covering the edge of her lower lip._

_She bites._

I wake up drenched in sweat and barely suppressing a scream. This was not the first time I had had this dream, and it would not be the last. My breathing comes in ragged gasps, as I try and fail to calm down. I wish the nightmares would stop, I beg and pray they will, but they don’t. I never speak to anyone about them, like my emotions, I bottle them up and bury them deep within myself. No matter what I try to tell myself or do, I know I just want to be heard, listened to, loved. But that won’t happen for the poor abused preacher’s boy. So many thoughts and emotions race through my head, memories long forgotten explode forth. I can’t take it.

Even though we are not allowed outside of our rooms after dark, I need to fresh air. I feel like I’m suffocating; I’m panicking, and I feel like I’ve reached the end of my rope. I tear open my door, and sprint through the halls, stumbling most of the way, my vision darkening. I see the door within my reach, so close, so easy to grasp, but I fall short of my goal.

I hear footsteps.

I curl up, slamming my eyes shut, grasping my legs close to my chest. I know that those who break the rules here are never seen again. I feel tears streak down my face.

The footsteps stop in front of me.

Silence.

The door creaks open, a winter wind glides inside.

My shaking grows more spastic.

The feeling of large cold arms envelopes me, lifting me.

I finally open my eyes, seeing Lady Dimitrescu, staring back at me. There is nothing but concern and something else radiating from then. My breathing starts to de-escalate.

She sits down at the bench in my dream, her head coming to rest atop of mine. Her fragrance is so alluring, it hits me like a train, so sweet, so calming, so perfect.

In a hushed voice, she whispers three simple words.

“You are safe.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Just Wow. Almost 200 views in one day. 21 Kudos. Holy Fucking Shit! Anyways, because I'm nice, I give you another chapter, but be warned its really just a filler. The next one delves more into Edward's early struggles at the castle, as well as the growing thing between him and the tall lady in the present. By the way, this story takes place in Romania.

_I walked the lonely isolated road out of the village and off into the dense, dark forest. The people had a name for this place, unde dispar, its name taken from the inevitability that those who enter never return._

_A fine mist lays amongst the woods, obscuring my vision, letting me barely see ten feet in front of myself. Every noise seems amplified out here, I can practically hear my heart beating and my blood pumping. My already depressed mood spiraled downward exponentially as I thought about what lay ahead of me and not around me._

_Today, my freedom would end after my father had finished enslaving me to Lady Dimitrescu and her estranged family. With how my life has functioned thus far, it seems fitting that I would begin my internment on my birthday. In twelve hours, I would be sixteen and perfectly set for a life of labor and subservience. No longer would I be able to learn from school or do any of the activities I enjoyed. No longer would I be a freethinking individual, I will soon be just another face in the crowd. A nobody. An insignificant spec. A…_

_A loud snap shatters the quiet around me. Another one precedes it shortly afterwards._

_I quicken my pace._

Our Father, who art in Heaven…

_A low growl comes from behind me, feral, unnatural._

Hallowed be thy name…

_For a moment, I hear whispering and see a darkened figure to my left, just behind a bush._

Thy Kingdom come; thy will be done…

_I hear bats squealing._

On Earth as it is in Heaven…

_A cold hand swipes across the back of my neck. I sprint off._

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

_The mist slowly clears away, an old castle sign presenting itself. A sign of civilization in this eerie forest._

_I wind my way along the path, incoherent shapes forming around me, my breathing becomes labored._

_I see light in the distance amongst the ruins of a castle._

_A scarecrow appears to my left, its head downcast, a black goo dribbling down its checkered shirt._

_I reach a door, oak, decorated with gold carvings._

_Behind me, I only see mist._

_I knock._

_Nothing._

_I try again, urgency increasing as a shadow appears amongst the fog._

_“Please…”_

_The door burst opens, an eight-foot woman appearing before me in a yellow dress of a bygone era. It molds around her figure, emphasizing her unnatural perfections, a goddess of white. Speech evades me._

_She stares down at me, her luscious red lips pressed together, her yellow eyes penetrating my soul. She raises a single gloved hand, and motions for me to enter. I stumble to my feet and obey._

Lead me not into temptation but deliver me from evil.

_“I take it you are Edward Mckinley, son of Preacher Mckinley,” she booms, her voice commanding, the faintest hint of a Romanian accent present._

_“Yes.” I mumble, looking down at my feet._

_“Follow me.”_

_And so my journey into hell begins._

* * *

I don’t know when I fell asleep. Or for how long. All I am certain of was that last night broke down all my emotional and mental barriers, and that I fell asleep in Lady Dimitrescu’s arms. As I slowly regain my consciousness, the first things I felt were assurance, peace, affection.

I remembered what she said. The three words I had longed to hear all my life, but never found.

Three, a divine number, the Trinity.

Three to form one simple sentence that meant so much.

Her words saved me.

She saved me.

I rolled over in my bed, reaching out towards the desk that lay beside it, only to feel nothing but sheets and the rest of a mattress. My eyes snapped open, any lingering sleepiness forgotten, revealing a darkened room, drawn drapes, and gold décor strung along the walls. I sat straight up, seeing an impressionistic painting of a morning countryside staring back at me. At the corner of this room, a large white gown lay atop an eight-foot mannequin beside a pair of oak brown doors, ornately carved with patterns and bars. _I was in Lady Dimitrescu’s bedroom._

As the thought crossed my minds, the door squealed open, revealing the head of the giantess, a rare, pure smile on the face of perfection; her wine-red lips shined against her snow-white skin. She entered, finding her way beside the bed, lowering to her knees.

“How are you feeling?” her voice is questioning, concerned, caring.

“Fine. I feel alright,” I answer, running a hand through my hair, her eyes trace the movement before resettling on mine, glowing yellow on stormy grey. Silence settles.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Do not worry yourself, only a few hours,” she says, scoffing once finished, “you missed the beginning of your shift. My daughters were wondering where our butler had gone.”

At the mention of that, I try to get up, only to be stopped by two large fingers gently pressing me back into the bed. A shiver courses through my body as they linger there for a second or two. They slowly glide up my chest to just below my chin, forcing all coherent thought to cease.

“So fragile, so pure, yet so strong,” she whispers, continuing to look at me, an indistinguishable emotion dancing within her eyes.

In one fluid motion, her fingers are gone, and she departs from me, glancing back only once at my questioning look.

“I will see you at lunch, Edward. For now, rest.”


End file.
